One of my joys each day is taking Wil to school. Sometimes I gripe about the traffic or getting him (and Luke and Timothy) up, fed, and out the door by 7.30 but it is so worth it to see him light up when we walk into his classroom. Wil loves school. He loves to learn. He is curious. He is attentive, much more so than most three year olds his teacher's and therapist's brag. And he loves to socialize.

About once a week, while carrying him to his class, watching the elementary school students scurry the halls as they make their way to homeroom, I find myself choking back tears. Sometimes it is out of sheer exhaustion. Sometimes I feel Wil's vulnerability intensly. Sometimes it is an overwhelming sense of pride. Sometimes it is a sense of "making it" this far. When Wil was born we were given a big ole list of potential problems and told that there were a number of things we may not experience with him. There is something about walking the halls of Wil's school, more than anything else we do, that stirs those memories in me. I realize how wrong they were. Those lists, and the medical professionals who passed them on. We have experienced immeasurably more than we could have imagined.

Every morning when Wil arrives in his classroom he takes his folder out of his backpack, with some help, and carries it to his teachers desk.And having the hint of OCD in him that he does he makes sure to push in disheveled chairs after the folder has been deposited on Mrs. Moore's desk. And then he is off to sign in.After sign in, the kids get to choose their activity until class starts. Wil always goes to the computer. He pulls that chair out, positions himself and uses the touch screen to start his favorite music.

His lead teacher has just walked in and called his name, it is time to go to circle. This is Wil's look of resistance. But he does move on because he knows in circle there will singing. But first he reaches over to give me a big hug along with a wet kiss.